Stability
by altairattorney
Summary: [post-case 3-5] You are finally sitting on your own, side by side, and for once the world will not move.


**Stability**

You meet in a corner of quiet, a few uncertain days later, when the flurry of events has toned down and you are both too tired to take care of anything.

As soon as he comes in, silence spreads. You feel relieved. Everything looks easier within the comfort of your office, in a cold afternoon sun softened by the curtains. The tangle of emotions, of unsaid words, stares back at you from a different dimension. You let it be – in the aftermath of times like these, to keep your distance is a natural need.

The fierce wind rests, your certainties stop shaking. You are finally sitting on your own, side by side, and for once the world will not move.

For long minutes, neither of you says a word. All the talking is left to the clink of fine porcelain. You refuse to listen as the seconds tick by, for it is essential to take your time. The slow rhythm of your rib cages calms you down – it proves you two are alive and breathing, and intimately grateful for that.

You can count the reasons why you, then he, might not have made it instead. A hint of sickness washes over you, making you shiver. It is just a moment – then you are back to the present, he is back, and he inexplicably _knows_.

You do not marvel at it anymore. At the same time, he takes you by surprise with every new breath. When the jumble of his first few words collapses in a sobbing mess, you feel the earth shiver and your field of vision spin.

You let him rid himself of his burden. Reminiscent of the darkness you have trodden in for years, you want him to at all costs. Concern and empathy lead your hand to his shoulder – yours is a tentative touch, warm and imbued with respect.

He does not move away. The weight of his trust in you makes you light-headed. You stay as well, feeling useless yet essential. It is his turn to let go of a mask –this time, whatever happens, you will be there.

As a messy cascade of tears stains his suit, you think of everything Phoenix is, and what of it he shows to the world. You have known firsthand how fast he gives himself away to others. Untiring, he approaches them as a giver and an anchor, a flowing fountain of love and trust.

The carelessness most people have paid him back with is staggering. Your chest aches – you were one of the first.

Now he is smiling weakly, his hands in his lap, faint red circling the deep blue of his eyes. He doesn't stop saying he is sorry. Each time falls hard on your heart – to keep your grip steady is almost a necessity.

After so many years of isolation from the universe of mankind, you can feel all the care and fatigue which lie beneath his strength. You admire him, you cherish him, so much.

Soon, you are speaking of gratitude. You try to explain what it means to be repaid. It may be a task greater than you, and your words may never be enough. Even so, you will do everything in your power to convey the message.

He is so worn out that, under your own grasp, you can feel his faith slipping away. It wounds you in reverse, how much he is hurting. You recognize the pit he has thrown his own feelings in, so he may take care of everyone else's first. What scares you the most, you understand in horror, is the fact neither knows the true extent of it.

It is normal to him, a pang in your chest confirms. What is life-changing for others is his average. He would go to the lengths of the most foolish to save people from themselves. He would turn around whole situations over and over again, chase away nightmares of decades, and to Phoenix Wright it would still be nothing.

Even now, it is written all over him. You read it in his gestures, his bright laughter and his stuttering, as he answers your words by brushing everything off. He keeps existing in front of you, his face, his voice, his open heart, not nearly imagining just how much he is worth.

So many are the things he isn't quite aware of. You desperately wish you were enough to open his eyes.

When he starts thanking you for an endless list of things, you cannot even find the strength to stop him. You think of the cases you have studied during the flight, your heart hammering in sorrow. So many monsters got close to taking his and his friends' lives – the same events to erode his faith in little bits, like untiring waves on a shore.

And then, in the frantic turns of a life as fragile and complicated as yours, you realize there will always be room for him. In the flow of changing places, colleagues, working hours, his space in your heart is steadily defined, in the way all timeless things are.

After the constant lack of recognition – after all those souls who came and went, without even acknowledging how wonderful he is – you feel you must let him know. None of the people around him can afford to lose him, nor to let him become other than this. For one, you would not bear to see it happen.

Wherever it may come from, he is the first one to deserve his peace of mind. You cannot afford to miss this chance – thanks to him, and to the life he gave you back, you might be the one to eventually save him in return.

_You are important_, you try to say. For the first time since you met him again, you call Phoenix your friend. And something in the way his eyes widen, in the childish curve that bends his smile, grants you it was the right thing to say.

It is your way to thank him. You will do it again, until he comes to believe it; a thousand times more, if necessary.

It may not be easy for you, but you really don't mind. You could do it forever.


End file.
